


the spine of your body and its bones

by eudaimon



Category: Strapped (2010)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 21:11:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eudaimon/pseuds/eudaimon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It took Adam a while to figure what sex with Gary could be.</p><p>(The title, and the poem that Gary and Adam quote, is taken from <a href="http://lovepoems.yu-hu.com/cummings/i_like_my_body.shtml">i like my body when it is with your</a> by e e cummings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the spine of your body and its bones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PJVilar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PJVilar/gifts).



> Couldn't resist it.
> 
> HAPPY YULETIDE <3

Graceless on his knees, he leans across Sam's thighs and sucks his cock in long, slow strokes. He kind of considers himself a conniseur at this point and he thinks that Sam's got a beautiful cock, thick and heavy and a fantastic fit against his tongue. Sam's hand rests heavy on the back of his head. It's not raining tonight, a rarity, and the apartment is silent except for their breathing, and the liquid sound of the slide of Adam's mouth. It's a Tuesday evening after a full day of class which means that this is as close to a routine as Adam has had since he left Iowa.

On a Tuesday evening, Gary works a late shift at the coffee shop (poetry reading) and Adam spends his time up in Sam's apartment. Sometimes, there's money waiting out on the counter. On those evenings, Adam goes with the flow. He sucks cock; he's bent over counter or kitchen table, well lubed and well fucked; sometimes, he just strips, methodically and stands while Sam looks at him for a while; sometimes he jerks off.

Sam never asks him to do anything weird and they never set foot in the bedroom.  
Adam figures that it's the way they both protect Gary even though he never asked them to. He never would.

Afterwards, Adam sprawls on the hardwood floor to do his homework. This week, he's trying to get his head around Barthes and binary opposition. A hero only makes sense in the universe because he has a villain to oppose. Contrast lends power and weight.

It takes all sorts. If we all liked the same thing. Boring world. Ecetera.

"I'm going now," he says, shouldering his backpack, leaning down over the back of Sam's chair to drop a soft, sweet kiss onto his mouth. "I'll see you tomorrow, old man."  
"Old? What's old? Old is just a number, dearest, most beautiful boy. And my heart..."  
"I know all about your fucking heart. Just take your pills, okay?"

It's been a couple of months since he ran back up all those stairs, breathless and so fucking weary. He remembers thinking that it was the longest night of his fucking _life_ and he'd still been wondering what the _fuck_ he was doing when Gary opened the door, wondering why the _fuck_ he wasn't just going home and getting some sleep before class, but then there was Gary and the look on his face and that was enough.

Right there, it was enough.  
And he missed a week of class after that. He had to tell them someone fucking died.

*

That first night, neither of them had the energy for fucking. Gary had pressed Adam back against the wall and kissed him, gentle but deep. More soul-kissing. Adam had felt himself starting to soften in weird ways, starting to come apart at carefully constructed seams. His hands had tightened on Gary's shoulders.

"Are you staying?" Gary had said, those eyes wide and hopeful.  
Adam had nodded. He'd never been so relieved to see that someone actually had a bed.

 

He started moving out of his apartment a week later.  
For something so quick, it felt final in a comfortable way.

*

Two months later, it's as much his place as Gary's. It's not big, but they make do. It's all sort of frighteningly fucking domestic; sometimes they sit opposite each other at the table, Gary at his typewriter, Adam building a fort out of Poli-Sci and Sociology textbooks. They cook together. They eat together. Adam takes forever in the shower and, more often than not, Gary gets in there with him.

Adam always does the dishes.

He's never really thought about it, but maybe this is how you build a life. He sort of fell into the one he had before.

Sometimes, he doesn't know how he's supposed to act.

Like, one night, he comes home with nearly two hundred dollars in his pocket and bruises around his wrists. It wasn't anything, not really, and, usually, he's not that stupid, but, honestly? They could really use the money because Sam's all well and good, but he can't keep them afloat while Gary waits on enslushed pieces that never seem to come back.

(When, he wonders, did he learn the word 'enslushed'? And when the fuck did he start caring how much a guy could or couldn't afford to get his cock sucked?)

Sprawled on the futon, Gary gathers both of his wrists and kisses the bruises, lips against delicate bones.

"Someone could really hurt you," he says, quietly, and his heart's right there in his eyes, like it always fucking is. "They could kill you."  
"Nawh," says Adam, shaking his head, his fingers curling too loosely to make fists. "Not me. I'm invincible."

His first mistake: like most guys his age, he doesn't actually believe that death could ever really apply to him.

*

Sometimes, it feels like he knows every way there is to get fucked, to be fucked, to have another human being inside him. It feels like he's been open every way that there is for a person to be opened (and maybe that's why he keeps some parts of himself closed so tight?). Or that was what he thought, until he ended up in Gary's bed. One night, Gary kisses down his chest, fingers already deep inside him. Gradually, Adam's got used to the way Gary does things, the way that even the smallest touch can seemed weighted and important. Adam arches and rocks his hips down, biting on his lip as Gary murmurs against his skin.

"And possibly i like the thrill of under me you quite so new..."  
"Is that fucking _Cummings_?"

Gary laughs and Adam finds himself laughing too, though it's soon spilling back into breathless moans as he fucks himself on Gary's fingers and marvels that every time could be like the first time, that he could always have these small moments of quiet realisation...that he could change or think he's changed every time Gary touches him.

He remembers that poem from a class, once.  
 _It is so quite a new thing._

He spreads his knees wider and pulls Gary down to him. They slide together. Sometimes, he's content with the friction of Gary's cock alongside his but, tonight, he needs him inside him, needs him so deep that he can taste him. The most shocking realisation came when he knew that he'd let Gary in everywhere and that there was nothing that he'd hide.

On his shoulder, Gary's fingers move like they're on typewriter keys.

"What are you writing?" he asks, breathless, moving but trying desperately to stay still at the same time, wanting it to last.  
"You. This. Us."

Sex had always been a kind of currency.  
At some point in the last two months, he's figured out that it can be a language, too. That he had something more to say than 'how' and 'when' and 'how much?'.

Adventures, he'd said. He liked adventures.  
And here he is.

Gary shifts inside him.  
Adam feels the world as it exists now slip more surely into place.


End file.
